


I think

by katemiller



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sherlolly - Freeform, Sherlolly Appreciation Week, Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-15
Updated: 2019-03-15
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:38:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katemiller/pseuds/katemiller
Summary: Sherlolly Appreciation Week 2019, Day 5,  “But you can’t do this again, can you?”





	I think

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a prompt from steffy2106 : i am allowing myself to prompt you for some Sherlolly goodness. I watched a recent Grey’s Anatomy and Jackson just intervened during the wedding of the woman he loved. Could you write a Sherlolly where Sherlock actually interrupt Molly’s wedding?
> 
> I originally filled the prompt in 2015 but when I was deciding what I wanted to do for today, I couldn’t get this fic out of my head. I was able to easily write today’s prompt into the dialog and edited some poorly written lines. Enjoy!

"Molly asked me to bring these back," John said as he walked into the flat at Baker Street holding a bag of clothes. Sherlock didn't reply; he sat in his chair frantically searching for a new case. "I'll just leave them here." He tossed them on the couch and closed the door. "Sooo, today's the day."  

Sherlock NEEDED a new case and he knew Lestrade wouldn't be bringing him one today; he would be busy getting drunk at the open bar.  

"Are you going?" John asked, sinking down into his old chair.  

"No,” Sherlock replied without taking his eyes off his phone.  

"But I heard her personally ask you."  

"I said if I wasn't busy…and I'm busy."  

"You aren't doing anything!" John threw his hands in the air.  

"I just found myself a new case." He smiled triumphantly. "I really should get started on it tonight." Sherlock pushed himself out of his chair and grabbed the tea Mrs. Hudson had brought to him. He took a sip and frowned. 

"Cold?"  

"Mhm." Sherlock dumped the cup in the sink. 

"It's almost one." John looked over his shoulder. Sherlock was still furrowing at the cup. "Want to grab a bite?"  

"No." Sherlock started messing with an experiment he had abandoned last night. John sighed again and got up, knowing when he was being dismissed. Before he left he went to Sherlock's room and started digging through the closet. Sherlock knew he was setting him out clothes to wear.  

"Then I better be home to Mary," John said as he headed towards the door. "Sherlock, please be there today."  

 

 

Three weeks earlier:  

Sherlock sat plucking at the strings on his violin, pleased that he had just wrapped up his last case so perfectly. He stopped when he heard heavy and rushed footfalls in the stairway. The door flung open and there stood a soaking wet Molly Hooper.  

"Molly?" He sat down his violin and looked at her.  

"Could I have some dry clothes or a towel?" she asked as she closed the door. He nodded once and disappeared to get the items she had asked for.  

Her presence at 221B had become a normal occurrence since his return. He had asked her over to help with experiments and she would bring him what body parts she could. They both seemed to enjoy their time together and John found Sherlock was in a much more agreeable mood after his afternoons with Miss Hooper.  

But this afternoon, Molly was supposed to be elsewhere. In fact she had a dress fitting at 4 and then dinner with Tom afterwards. Sherlock had invited her over to try out a new experiment he was no longer planning on doing, but she had politely declined.  

"Thank you." She took the towel and dry clothes out of Sherlock's hands and excused herself to the bathroom.  

Sherlock sat back down and picked up his violin again, slowly plucking at the strings in an attempt to not think about how she had looked in her wet clothes. When she finally emerged, Sherlock swallowed hard. His shirt and pants were both too big for her but she had the strings of the pants tied tight and the shirt hung slightly off of her one shoulder. Something about this caused Sherlock to keep steeling glances at her bare collar bone as she towel dried her hair.  

"I'm going to make some tea." Sherlock simply nodded, his hand having stilled against the strings. Molly walked over to the bow and handed it to him, her silent way of instructing him to play.

When the tea was done, she handed him a cup and sat down in John's chair, sipping on her own. She stared at a spot on the floor, not talking. The flat was entirely too quiet for Sherlock’s liking.

"What am I to you?" she finally asked.  

"My pathologist,” he responded quickly…too quickly.

"Yours?" She furrowed her brow.  

"A friend,” he added, realizing that besides John, he had never called anyone else that out loud. 

She paused and looked up at him.

"Should I marry Tom?" 

"Molly?" She looked back at the floor when he said her name.

"I mean, I love him and genuinely care for him. But I'm not _in love_ with him…Is that really fair to him?" 

Sherlock blinked at her, completely at a loss for words.  

"I think you’re in love with me." She looked back up at him. "Should I marry Tom?" she asked again.  

"I can't be what you want,” he finally responded and a moment later added, “Marry him."  

She didn't say anything, but just sipped her tea. When she was finished, she took her cup to the kitchen and placed it in the already full sink. She walked back over to Sherlock and leaned down, placing a small kiss on his cheek. 

“You can’t do this again, can you?”

She gathered her wet clothes and purse before turning to him.

“No.” She gave him a sad smile and before he could say anything else she had opened the door to his flat, startled to see John walking in.

"Molly?" John looked her up and down.  

"John." She smiled once at him and turned back to Sherlock, an afterthought. "Please be there, at the wedding." Then she left.  

"Don't ask," Sherlock told John after Molly was out of earshot.  

 

 

Present:  

After John left, Sherlock abandoned the experiment again and fell down on the couch face first. He hadn't actually found a case, all of them had been under a four and he had solved half of them by just reading the emails.  

 _Please be there._ Molly and John's words echoed in his head. He tried to ignore them and decided a walkthrough of his mind palace might be a good distraction – deleting the unnecessary and rearranging the import.  

But everywhere he turned, there was Molly. At the morgue in her lab coat. At home wrapped in a blanket on her couch. Standing in his kitchen in his clothes. Everywhere.  

"Fine!" he shouted. He stood up and went to his room throwing on the clothes John had put out for him. He checked his watch, he was just barely going to make it.  

 

 

The cabbie he got was a complete idiot and had gotten them lost, twice. By the time Sherlock arrived at the church he was already a good ten minutes late and he had half a mind to just turn around and go home. Or go to the nearest bar and get really drunk. He opted for staying and decided he would use the open bar to drink, hoping to quiet Molly's voice,  _I think you’re in love with me_.  

He busted through the church doors and there stood Molly at the end of the aisle already. Her dress was simple, but on her, she made it glow. He groaned slightly when he realized that he preferred her in his clothes. Molly stared at him in shock, but gave him a small smile and pointed to the back row. He quickly sat, ignoring John and Mary's stares.   

The pastor continued speaking. Sherlock wasn't paying attention to what was going on. He kept clenching and unclenching his hands.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._  

 _"_ No,” he whispered to himself.  

 _I think you’re in love with me_.  

"No!" he whispered more forcefully and the people in front of him shot him annoyed looks.  

 _I think you’re in love with me...I think you’re in love with me._  

"No!" he said loud enough for the people two rows in front of him to hear. The women in front of him 'shh-ed' him.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._   

Sherlock made to stand up, but sat back down before anyone noticed.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._   

He stood with shaking hands and stepped into the aisle.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._   

Molly noticed the movement out of the corner of her eye and turned her head with a questioning look.

 _I think you’re in love with me._   

 _"_ Molly?" The entire church turned their attention to him and he took a deep breath.  

 _I think you’re in love with me._   

"You asked me if you should marry Tom." He walked down the aisle toward her, never taking his eyes off her. “You also told me that you think I’m in love with you…and your voice has been on repeat in my head since then,” he slowed his pace as he walked. “It’s been my own personal reminder of how much I would lose if you said I do today.” He stopped just in front of her. “Please don’t marry Tom." He reached out and grabbed her by the waist and pulled her to him. A small smile slid over her lips and he kissed her hard as the rest of the people around him let out gasps of surprise.  

"He waits till now!" He heard John say and chuckled against Molly's lips. He slowly released his hold on her.

"I think that I’m in love with you too," he whispered, rubbing his nose along hers.

"Well that’s nice," Tom said. Molly stepped back from Sherlock with the intention to try and explain, but Tom reeled back and punched Sherlock in the eye. He straightened his jacket and held out his hand to Molly. "Ring." Molly hastily pulled it off her finger and handed it over. Tom walked quickly from the church, with his family hurrying after him.  

 

 

"You could have moved,” Molly said as she put two stiches in just above his cheek bone. He raised an eyebrow in question. "You are much faster than him, you knew it was coming. Why didn't you move?" She took off her gloves and dumped them in the bin.  

"I figured he at least deserved to get a punch in." Sherlock shrugged, wrapping his arms around her waist. "I had just stolen his bride." Molly smiled at him and nestled her head under his chin.  

They were back at Baker Street. Molly was dressed in the same clothes that she had borrowed three week previous, her wedding dress in the bins outside.  


End file.
